


Death For My Wiggling Day

by Neo_Naughtager



Series: roomtrapped [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Expanded Universe, Grubs (Homestuck), Homestuck - Freeform, Not A Fix-It, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Tentabulges (Homestuck), Trollian (Homestuck), Trollsona, mostly a thought experiment, picking up on andrew hussies loose threads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:08:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neo_Naughtager/pseuds/Neo_Naughtager
Summary: Your name is Thoth Fannon. What nonsense have you gotten into this time?





	Death For My Wiggling Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You realize something isn't going right.

A young troll stands in his respiteblock, tonight being the eve of his wriggling day.  
But he of course would rather stay curled up in his recuperacoon.  
What is the name of this slumbering troll? Well, does it matter? He's still rather deeply asleep, and it's rather late into the night! He'll have to awaken himself first for us to find out who he is, and more importantly, why he's important for you to know him. 

==>Thoth: Awaken

Your name is THOTH FANNON, and Jegus Christopher it's late! You slip out of your recuperacoon, shaking the slime out of your hair. Ech. It's getting long again, you need to ask your lusus to cut it for you, Derse knows you can't do it yourself. Odd that your lusus, or rather lusii, would let you sleep in this late. You're a very busy man, after all! Breeding Imperial Drones and studying law doesn't do itself, you know. Speaking of your countless extremely important activities, you glance across your room to admire your various hobbies- you have a passion for reading LAW BOOKS, collecting and cleaning BEAST BONES to decorate your hive with, brooding over your SLAM POETRY, as well as working on your VARIOUS MANUSCRIPTS when not working on more efficient ways to breed Imperial Drones. Though the latter is mostly just speculation; why revive something that's not dead? 

>Breathe.

The stale scent of grub ink and bones you have yet to cleanse perforate the air, not too unpleasant but not something you'd like to linger about. What if you were to have company? Though, you don't really know too many people you think would bother to visit you at your hive. Or visit you at all, for the matter. You're a very busy man, and busy men have no time for company, not with business and all. You turn to open a window, but find it's seemingly stuck. Damn Carpenter Drones, can't build for shit. It's worrying, but you'll find time to fix it at some later date. Ever the busy one, aren't we?

> Be scared shitless

JEGUS HAROLD CHRIS WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT???

A culling screech is enough to knock you from whatever train of thought you were having. You quickly calm down after realizing it's nothing more than your husktop notifications. Someone's trying to contact you, for some odd reason. Relieved, you begin the hunt for your device- your block isn't as neat as it could be. You approach the now steady beep coming from your husktop, buried somewhere under the mountainous piles of papers and journals. Shoving them aside, you pull it out and sit down to check your messages.

==>Thoth: Be Trolled By Your Bestie

Well, they aren't exactly your "bestie", and definitely not your moirail to any degree. (Though, you can admit in confidence you thought of flushing pale for them one more than one occasion.) But nevertheless you two are indeed close, and whatever they seem to be trying to talk to you about is obviously something important. They've messaged you at least a million times by now. You respond.

SanguineSerpentes [SS] started trolling DamnumDecoy [DD]

SS: yooo  
SS: man I know youre uppp  
SS: cmoooooon >:P~  
SS: imma ssstart hisssin if ya dont ressspond  
SS: thatsss it hisssin time  
SS: *hisssesss*  
SS:...  
SS: *hisssesss louder*  
DD: What in the name of all that is DDEADDLY ddo you want, PlantBLOODD? X  
DD: I'm in the middddle of very important things. X  
DD: Things someone like you coulddn't comprehendd the importance of. X  
DD: Very important things. X  
SS: ok firssssssssst off, quit that ~plantbloood~ nonsense  
SS: wtf even isss a plant, one of your made up thingssss from your made up bookssss?  
SS: and you cant even play the bloood card bc you...  
SS: fuck what even isss your bloood color man?  
SS: ive known ya 2 sssweepsss n I ssstill aint know  
DD: Because the contents ddon't matter. X  
SS: yeah sssure  
DD: What was it that Troll Martin Luther King Junior saidd? X  
SS: idk mansss isss dead  
DD: ""I have a ddream, that one dday my wigglers will live in a nation where they won't be JUDDGEDD by the color of their BLOODD, but by the sickness of their rhymes.""X  
SS: yea  
SS: pretty sssure thatsss not what the dude sssaid

You're 100% percent that's what he said.

DD: Anyway X  
DD: What was it you were contacting me about? X  
SS: oh yea  
SS: that  
SS: jussst thought id wisssh you a happy wriggling day n all that mussshy crap I know ya hate  
DD: I ddo indeedd DDESPISE mushiness... X  
DD: So why on Alternia wouldd you ddo such a thing? X  
SS: maybe im pitching black idk  
SS: <3<   
DD: Gross. X  
SS: ksksksksksksks  
SS: but 9 sssweepsss congratsss bro  
SS: meansss ya better ssstart coming outta your hive more, maybeeeeee  
DD: ? X  
DD: ""Maybe"" what? X  
SS: ssstart getting ya quadrantsss on!  
DD: Oh.  
SS: itsss bout time thothy  
SS: ur a grown troll now  
DD: so that's what this tomfoolery was TRULY about. X  
DD: You trying to dddust your ASHEN feelings all over my love life. X  
DD: I'm over it. X  
DD: We're not Quaddddrant mates, so stop worrying about me.  
DD: I fucking MAKE the drones, not like they're gonna CULL me.  
SS: ssshit man in sssorry  
SS: I jussst worry bout u sssometimesss  
DD: and will you quit it with the fucking sssss thing???  
DD: dddoesn't suit you and its pissing me off  
DD: IN THE MOST PLATONIC WAY POSSIBLE  
DD: I dddon't have time for this  
DD: I've work to dddo.

DamnumDecoy [DD] ceased trolling SanguineSerpentes[SS]

> Be visibly upset

You aren't just visibly upset, you grunt to let your empty room know you are audibly upset as well. You are SO going to rant about this to your lusii, they seem to be the only ones who seem content with you not wanting to stray from your work with such frivolous endeavors. Tch, romance. Who needs 'em, especially four kinds? You've got your claws tied with keeping this society from getting run down with worthless scum flooding the streets, the last thing you of all people need is to fill buckets. Romance was for those who couldn't contribute anything else but their genes to society. Like compost in the grubfields. You were a seed, with plenty else to give. You'll show them, you'll show all the thems. 

> Locate your lusii

They're downstairs, where you left them last time. Hopefully they didn't wander too far off. It was rare for you to get the both of them in a block together, one was always out and about. You might ask for that haircut while you rant, it's getting hard to see. For a moment, you even thought your door was locked. 

Yeah.

Thought.

> Open Sesame

You go to open the door, and much to your surprise, find it locked. You try again. And again. And again and again and again, prying on it with all the might of your body. It doesn't budge an inch.

> Use your scythekind specibus to hack the door open in a fit of rage

Your scythe is downstairs, stupid! Most likely still strapped to the back of one of your lusii. Plus they would kill you if you ruined another block door in one of your fits. So you sigh, staring with malice intent at the barrier before you. _Nothing good comes out of anger_, you tell yourself, **_nothing good._**

> Lash out anyway

You growl, bawling your claws as you punch the door with all of your strength. Nothing but the searing pain and the thick, viscous blood dripping down your fist are indicators that anything has been done. Clutching your hand tightly, you curl up on the reverse sky ground by the door, a low, pained howl leaving your lips, along with a flutter of pathetic chirps. The block sways, and you shut your eyes to cope with it.

The black tarlike blood drips down the wood.


End file.
